Shopping Lists
Tools for a Labor of Love
Temporary Art/Science to Be Used and Discarded
Shopping lists are precious pieces of paper—so valuable at the time of their creation and use that we loathe losing them, although they are only to be tossed away when their employment is completed. I found these sixty in a food store where I worked for three years; when fellow workers found out I was collecting them, they saved them for me when they found them. Somehow, this project seemed kind of neat to my teammates and I, so I kept it up! Apparently we do not hang on to shopping lists but easily lose them when done (hopefully not while their usefulness is still occurring!).
The tools are a creation borne of the need for belly healing and nourishment, of nutritive desire and intellectual satiation. Shopping lists tell what; how many; which from different stores, perhaps; and, in the creator’s script, the mood associated with each item or grouping. This last may not be important to the writer, but is communicated to us readers. The lists are an intimate glance into shopper’s worlds. Even the medium speaks volumes—pencil, pen; scrap versus full 8 1/2” x 11” sheet of paper, or in between; used paper versus new; condition of the list when lost. Of course, exact items on the list share priorities and planning. As is apparent, customers require herbs as well as foods, some of them. I took pride in working in a store where we actually sold supplements and medicinal plants, instead of just foods, while the foods we sold were as healthful as could be. (Though some fancy markets were around in Chicago when I was at Whole Foods, none had the focus of providing organic foods and health food store products, like Whole Foods offered.)
Why make a shopping list? For the shopping list writer, coming up with every item can be an achievement, even a big accomplishment, but is always a labor of love! Cooks and non-cooks alike will record recipe ingredients; meal plans; items needed from different stores; and/or quick pick-ups, the way I do it for my mate (the chef) and I; because he’s not a native speaker, I usually do the writing and the reading of the list at the store, especially because my impulsive writing is hard for him to decipher.
Shopping lists are an important component of shopping, a vital technique of capitalism, personal and specific yet essential to the structuring and execution of the shopping errand, the hunting and gathering of the modern world. They are a tool, intimate yet so much a formula of spending patterns. They are an organizational aid, a stimulant to memory—necessary in this fast-paced era. They are little-sung, yet vitally alive, giving us, their readers, a glance almost comparable to glimpsing hair style or clothing of their maker. Shopping lists tell much, and represent household maintenance procedure, a customary portion of our American method of life. They fascinate and captivate every food indulger!
“Let me make a list.”
The creation of a shopping list, as we see in these examples, does not require fancy supplies; any paper will do, and pencil as well as pen or even marker works to record one’s thoughts. The penmanship does not need to be legible, except for one’s own eyes.
“What else do we need? Here, let me look at the list.”
Lists are purely personal. They can appear that way: scribbled; items in a row, or scattered, perhaps indicating state of mind when recalling those items—an “Oh, yeah! That, too!” ending up in a directive gestalt, for one store or several errands.
“Cross it off the list!”
Crossing off items when you put them in the cart or basket is a very pleasurable activity; pure psychological satisfaction—each an important task completed! As you pick the item off the shelf, your written suggestion and memory aid turn into a tangible part of your kitchen workspace, only just to be paid for and trotted home with.
“Oh, no! I forgot the shopping list!”
Looking at these creations, we can only guess at the mind of the writer; their gender (or not), their educational level, their political views, their relationship to the family they’re feeding. Yet there are some observations we can make. Looking at this sample size of 62 lists, we can launch an investigation of shoppers and their customs.
These notes were collected in the late 1990s, before electronic devices were as popular as they are now. The look back is historical not only because folks were not using as many digital tools for organizing their shopping as they might be today. Also, the lists come from Whole Foods Market, in its iteration as the first of its stores in Chicago. This was when John Mackey and Renee Lawson Hardy, and Craig Weller and Mark Skiles, owned the business, before it merged with Amazon. Though its history is as a healthy food provider as opposed to a health food store, it carried herbs, some supplements, and natural medicines that one might find in a health food store, when I worked for it from 1997-2000. A bit of my personal history is relevant here.
When living in Honolulu, Hawaii, in 1986, I worked at Down-to-Earth Natural Foods, a supermarket/health food store adjoining a healthy fast-food restaurant. This place was very progressive. As a cashier, I finally got an introduction to food as medicine when I started listening to the herbalist who worked there. Actually, my earliest experience with this concept was when the fourth grade nurse at my school put a piece of aloe vera on my friend’s cut finger, beneath the bandaid, “to help Heather’s cut heal.” This was my introduction to natural medicine, and it was a “Wow!” experience. Though we lived on a farm, growing some of our own food, my mind was in the gutter of American popular mythologies, stories of mind over matter and machines making medicine.
Back in the Chicago suburbs, Nutrition World’s Diet House featured a job for me and an elderly expert who consulted with customers of our store in a wealthy town. We were tested on nutrition and dietary supplements; I enjoyed this experience a lot. When I moved into Chicago, I worked at New City Market in the rich theatre district (kind of near Second City); It’s Natural on Michigan Avenue near the River; and finally Whole Foods in Lincoln Park, another fashionable section of town, with a lot of traffic. (I had also furthered my education at Highland Park’s Sprout Shop, Oak Park’s Whole Food and Grain Depot, and as a customer at Portland, Oregon’s People’s Foods and other progressives enclaves of the West.) I must say that the Whole Foods where I worked—on North Avenue in a strip mall—was right next to Transitions, a New Age bookstore where I spent many a break, fortifying myself with food, drink, word and music. And other lunches found me buying zucchini burritos at a nearby Mexican restaurant or eating my Whole Foods salad bar selections in a vacant lot by the basketball court.
I felt great working at these stores. We had a restaurant that looked down on my Whole Foods section—“Nutrition”—composed of vitamins, supplements, herbs and bodycare. One day two women approached me and stated that they liked the way I moved, and wanted to offer me a job at nearby Best Buy, but I was more than happy to remain in my store, Earl Mindell’s herb book in my apron, trying to enlighten customers as to how to embrace greater living practices.
When I worked for Whole Foods Market, the store—though initially having been a food outlet—had developed, like I say, into providing items one would find in a “health food store,” i. e. shampoo, soap, vitamins, algae, and herbs. Several of the 62 lists reference these items—medicinal plants; personal care products; supplements such as spirulina, vitamins and minerals; spices—like herbs, offered in bulk, in pills, or in other forms. One smart shopper is getting “anchovies—B12!” This refers to, I assume, that the seeker is looking to get a source of vitamin B12, and anchovies have a lot of it; instead of a bottled source of the vitamin, this buyer wants to get hers/his from a food source. Also, they are not a strict vegetarian, we can glean from their entry, as anchovies are a kind of fish. The writer, however, is intelligent and resourceful, we can see—unless you think they could be moreso if they were vegan and wasn’t looking for fish to eat at all—and can be enthusiastic (always a good quality when paired with food!).
What is the process of making a shopping list? Of my sample, people tended to grab a small sheet of paper for this task: 43 did so, while 11 used a medium-sized sheet. Large sheets were utilized by 8, including one which was typed, while of the 43, seven folks used just a scrap to write on; Post-It notes were fine for 6. A full 17 of the writing material for the lists was repurposed, using these things: five business or other small cards; two envelopes; a paper napkin (this was particularly delicate but did the job); a list of songs that start with “L”; an Herbfest ’98 registration notice. Only three used writing paper specifically for the task—one with a flower and bee design; one with a corporate logo and worker’s name. The third used specifically “Chopin Liszt” paper, with a drawing of the two composers by Sandra Boynton!
Folded 8 1/2” x 11” paper was useful—6 of them were found; and stained paper was common. Was this the original state of the list, or did it become wet/marked after it left the writer’s hand, falling somehow to the floor and being rescued by some “Team Member” who gave it to collector me? Most of the lists (34) were recorded on white paper; another 9 used whitish or grayish paper. There were eight yellows in the crowd (including the Chopin Liszt one), and three greens, along with a hot pink, three pinks, and two lavenders.
In terms of lettering, only one list was typed, but that list also had an additional entry plus a correction in blue ink, and a couple of added entries in pencil; fourteen items were crossed off. This appears to be for a feast of some kind—“chestnuts” (these are described in detail as to amount and fresh or canned version); “Sweet potatoes; Cranberry sauce; Eggnog; Roasting pan;” ingredients I recognize for stuffing; a sauce with “1/2 cup dry Sherry;” fancy mushrooms (shiitake); rosemary, thyme and tarragon spices (the blue correction was about amounts for fresh verses dried rosemary herb); creamed onions, perhaps?, etc. etc.—the list is a full page long, ending with “Tampons” written in longhand; the writer of this list may be a woman, I venture to guess.
One must indeed work around what the store offers. Dry versus fresh, frozen or unfrozen, canned, jarred, bagged, boxed—how indeed do we get our food? Is fresh always best? I drink turmeric tea. I can find dried turmeric in mixtures put out by tea companies, but the fresh root is actually offered at both Whole Foods and Devon Market, our local “world market” store; it’s more satisfying to chop pieces of the fresh orange root into a cup, with a little fresh ginger. Is it better for me health-wise? Well, it’s more fun and I know and experience exactly what I’m getting: amount—how strong I like it and how much I am spending; and quality—the unspoiled purity and delightfulness, my adventure, perhaps to share. That’s an interesting idea—the more involved one is in preparing one’s food, the more joy one receives from eating it, and the more likely one is to spend to get more…yet, the more one is satisfied with one’s food, the less one will need to eat, on a food-as-entertainment level, so perhaps the less one will get fat!
During my tenure at Whole Foods Market—my employment as Nutrition section salesperson, I was moved profoundly, as I had been at the other health food stores where I worked. Some of my co-workers were also touched deeply—by ourselves, each other, and the store’s service to humanity (our customers). We were intellectually stimulated by what was going on in our department. “Our whole society is suffering because nutritional knowledge is not in the hands of the majority of the consumers; Whole Foods,” I wrote back then—but it is still true, today—“is a testimony to how shoppers will buy when they become somewhat educated and to their desire to get educated. Whole Foods suffers in its mission because its food store consciousness lags behind its health food store consciousness: the store suggests powerful solutions,” like the bottles and jars we dusted, read on, and told customers about, “then frustrates customers when its hobbled limbs cannot keep up with their desires to buy, buy, buy!…The hierarchy thing has been done already—by the people we’re trying to eclipse with our rectitude. When we do so we shall get a reputation as shining, golden, virtuous; and it’s reputations like that (by the way) that sell products.” (This from “Store/Company/Industry Alert in Preparation for the Year 2000: Plans for an Expanded Healthy Health Food Store,” which I wrote on my own initiative, as an inspired Team Member.)
I found a few menu plans on large paper. A dinner of pork, with marinade, asparagus and beans was laid out, with recipes and a section “To Buy.” Another list featured a menu plan with categories of foods needed to make it a go, including, in a box, “liquor”—“amaretto” and “cheap white wine” were underneath. Several other authors would be shopping for alcohol; a simple “wine” was listed on #6. Two specific wines could be found on #9, “Wine—Los Vascos, Sincerre.” A “wine—>white -Melissa & John” was the final entry on #11, written on an envelope.
One full sheet of notebook paper (#21) is two-sided and lists healthy practices. It begins with, in all caps, “ELIMINATE: CAFFEINE, ALCOHOL, JUNK FOODS, REFINED (SUGAR) (WHITE FLOUR)>BRONNER. FIBER.” (I’ll have more to say about this list later, but for now I want us to notice its tone of enlightened concern and enthusiasm.) Is “BRONNER” a reference to the All-One-God-Faith Dr. Bronner’s liquid castile soap, which has a lot of Dr. Bronner’s healthful suggestions listed on its bottle?
The list on the Herbfest ’98 registration form has a formula for a drink I used to swallow every morning when I lived with my high school friends in San Francisco; these folks had migrated to the city after I shared my West Coast experiences with them at winter break from Reed College in 1985. Jim’s (Demetrious’) mom was into healthy food, and he had learned a lot from her. The drink is, as expressed on the list: 3-4 cloves garlic, 1 tbsp grated ginger, dash of cayenne in lemon juice (1/2 lemon). We would drink this up and I’d run to the Asian fruit and veggie store for the best-looking fresh fruits, which we would then enjoy. This experience would stimulate me to continue trying to improve and maintain my health by eating certain foods; by the time Whole Foods Market came to Chicago, in a refurbished brewery building with skylights, the largest health food store in the country, I quit another job in order to work there, and since I lived within walking distance, a perfect three-year career was born. I would continue the learning experience I’d started in 1987, and wrote extensively to my fellow workers and management the time I was there.
Many of the lists were written in cursive, and many have items crossed off. They remind me of my own methods: first, I grab a small sheet of paper from the notepad of some charity sent to me by mail—in lieu of a Post-It note if I don’t have any—or a piece of 8 1/2” x 11” scratch paper for a long list (or for ones for different stores). I rip or cut it off as needed, scribbling in pseudo-legible, half-cursive, half printed handwriting which, like a journal entry where I’m recording my dreams, only I have to be able to read. I utilize some medium to record the items my partner and I, in counsel, see that we require for the smooth operation of our life. Sometimes the list hangs around for a couple of days and I add to it as needed. Ideally, I then put the list by my wallet so I don’t forget it.
Sometimes, however, I fail to bring it with, woe is me! At the store, we charge into the produce section (all 6 of our stores feature their fruits and veggies as you enter) and I look for the list. Finally I find the pocket it’s in, and whip it out. I never carry a writing instrument to cross the entries off, although that’s fun and satisfying; I always forget, and never have a pocket for one anyway. Instead, I usually lose track of the list by the time we enter the checkout line, assuming we’ve gotten everything and I don’t need it for another store.
One of the lists in my collection seems like a holiday one, with CDs and other gifts—including wines; it has names but is very hard to read. I thought it too personal to publish so it is not in my collection. There was another list we found that I couldn’t read because it was in an Asian language—it looked like Chinese to me: undecipherable to my eyes at this time. And there is another with a stationary name and company address that I will be covering up for viewing. The charming “Chopin Liszt” graphic by Sandy Boynton, the great illustrator and humorist, is the ultimate paper—in size (4” x 6”); color—a hard-to-lose yellow; inspiration—the two composers have groceries in their arms; and humor— wordplay for a shopping list! At least, it seems to me perfect for the job (there are even two columns side by side, for one or two words each line).
I wrote in July of 1998, “The commitment of my Nutrition co-workers is incredible: we must, for a small wage, act as therapist and doctor, oftentimes, which we do, out of love! I know the company values our minds, for we could not play these roles if it didn’t.” (this in correspondence with Susannah Frishman-Phillips by email, July 10, 1998)
I’ll tell you that the lists dearest to my heart are ones with a concern for good, hearty healing items—and not necessarily the expensive ones. All lists qualify, which shows the humanity of the Whole Foods consumer, who takes joy in eating wholesome fare. It reminds me of why I worked there and enjoyed those days! I love just being near the foods offered by this store, because I see their freshness and their quality—it’s inspiring. Also, creativity goes into many of the products and a Whole Foods is like a museum; unfortunately, as in an actual museum, sometimes what’s on display is too pricey to afford by the average shopper—this is a problem!. Whole Foods has, unfortunately, developed a reputation for being expensive; this is not uniform, but can indeed be a feature of its pricing. Competition would be desirable.
My country, the U. S. A., suffers from the consumption of poor-quality foods, especially people failing to eat enough fresh produce. (I was a vegetarian for 30 years, and I relied on health food stores for some of my meal ingredients: Whole Foods has a place!) The Obama Administration got a letter from me suggesting that the President subsidize fruits and vegetables for the poor, so the nation could heal itself from the inside out! I think Michelle Obama was concerned about food deserts, another problem of our nation.
Like Amazon is for online shopping, Whole Foods has become for this market of healthy foods. The monopoly is troubling, to say the least. Looking at the shopping for delivery that the store offers, and the increase in employees, one must ask how its workers are compensated. Especially during this Covid 19 time, is Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos sharing the wealth, or not? Furthermore, are employees learning about whole foods by being around them—a possible perk of the job? Are they at least inspired in this healthy atmosphere—and maybe even by some of the customers by whom they are surrounded?
The penmanship or penciled letters of these lists seem to express their symbols with joy. Take #1, on a medium-sized piece of yellow lined paper: “SOUR CREAM BUNDT CAKE,” written in all caps in underlined black marker. Below it are six ingredients, plus “CARAMEL FROSTING,” with “BROWN SUGAR (LIGHT).” This one was found crumpled, like many of the lists, probably on the floor. Or, take the 4” by 6” off-white folded paper, #60, also wrinkled, with only two items on it, both expressed with uniquely kind of dyslexic printing: “Sage” and, underneath it, “coarse salt.” I am torn between preferring two different tiny lists; the first, #67, is a lavender scrap of list with darkly pencilled arrows pointing to items to buy, perhaps from a different store—“getting @ drug store”—along with some dates for meetings; I’m not sure if the other things are to be purchased at Whole Foods (“—>water bottle (2) for kids; —>calcium; water filter; —>margerinne”) or not. The other scrap that yanks at me (#61) is a tiny (roughly 2” x 4.5”), extremely wrinkled double-sided list, torn on all sides. The writing seems done by two different hands. One side reads, “Onions/Kiwi fruit/navel oranges/spring greens/spinach/potatoes (if this year’s).” Here the thinking customer shows his/her care for quality and freshness! On the other side, the list reads, “Tea/Salmon/Tomatoes/Olives” in a script somewhat larger than the first; the second, in a sort of cursive, looks more hurried than the first (it’s harder to read, while the first shows the patient intention of distinct—if miniscule— lettering).
62 lists. 19 large. 43 small. I look at one of my mom’s shopping lists and see her glorious cursive describing her raw materials for making loving meals. Her fancy “f” in “fruit;” her capitalization of only one word, her favorite herb tea (“Cham tea” for chamomile); “red tea” down twice, once smaller and once at the top of the second grouping or column;”butter” in quotes—(“”butter””)—presumably referring to a margarine-type product she and her mate intelligently consume—there are eleven (plus the repetition) items on the list, but I like to see “yogurt” the best. It’s the first item and reminds me of her relationship with her mother-in-law, who used to make it. I know my mom’s household now eats those single-serving flavored ones from a store like Whole Foods, and thoroughly enjoy them—they get different flavors and have them with breakfast—number one on the list indeed! (This list was not found at Whole Foods, but is an important part of my collection because I recognize her hand; plus, she studied poetry and is a writer. Like any alert shopper, she is concerned with quality, and simple items do the trick—here’s the whole list: “yogurt/tortilla/coffee/ fruit/ “butter”/ hummus/ lemons/ milk/ green salsa/ Cham tea/red tea/red tea” (#46).
Well, my point here is that food is good and lots of people know it—or did in the late nineties when these lists were found. As a Nutrition Team worker, my hand was in the body care, vitamins, herbs and supplements that we sold in my section, and so was my heart. Of course, much of the products we prepared, cleaned, shelved and told customers about were part of whole foods themselves—vitamins, minerals, etc. But the herb section was my pride and joy: we offered large jars full of dried leaves, berries, and roots which had medicinal qualities. Some of these, like ginger and garlic, we sold in pill form and also, raw, in the Produce section with the bananas, lettuce and such. (These days, my Whole Foods sells fresh turmeric root, delightfully orange when cut—enjoy as tea or in food and say goodbye to arthritis pain! Or at least that’s how my sister and I use it. Meanwhile, my doctor wanted to prescribe some fancy, addictive drug for me, without mentioning that it would be a lot easier on my joints if I would lose weight! I did and use turmeric, and feel pretty much no hurting!)
So coming across lists with herbs on them (and vitamins and body care, less so) was living proof that folks planned to buy them and found them valuable. Here I make a distinction between herbs and dried spices, which we also offered in the Grocery section in bulk, so customers could serve themselves in little bags, avoiding overuse of bottles, lightening their footprints on the Earth. My #29 lists “diuretic tea (dandelion”) amongst its bathroom and refrigerated items (“B treatment shampooo/diuretic tea (dandelion)/ juice (fruit& veg)/ 3 votives/ cotton balls/ T paper (1)/ Pads/ orange mango tea/ Soap/ Bread/ eggs…” The next column—all of this on a 3” x 3” bright pink square of paper: “Salad tomatoes/ cuke/ brocc/ zucc/apples/ melon/carrots/ celery/ onions…” Then, finally, written sideways: “calendar sheets/nag champa/ dish towel.” We probably sold the incense, “nag champa,” in the kitchen/ household stuff section of Grocery, I don’t remember. Here again, the writer is possibly female, judging by the penmanship—very small letters but definitely a patient script—and the “Pads,” which could refer to the “green” menstrual pads that we sold. My current Whole Foods—after merging with Amazon and adjusting to Covid-19—does not offer bulk spices or herbs, boo-hoo.
Here’s a really inspiring list, if you’re me—#33, black ink on a 4” x 6” piece of grey paper, in a unisex hand. It reads, in all caps, ROSEHIPS/ LEMGRASS/ PEP MINT/ GINGER/ ELDER FLOWER/ ECHINACEA/ MARSHMAL/ LICORICE/ ASTRAGALUS/ THYME.” It’s encouraging to me that a) the writer is familiar enough with the words to abbreviate them and still know what he/she is talking about, i. e. “lemongrass”; b) the writer has found uses for these plants, whether strictly medicinal (like astralagus—see below) or nutritional (like rosehips for vitamin C and delicious tea), or peppermint, the tea I enjoy after eating meat, to soothe my tummy; c) several of the items have enthusiastic check marks next to them, indicating that the writer has cared enough to put these items in her/his shopping cart. Indeed, the borders of the nutritional and medicinal can be blurry! That’s what I love about herbs—they are medicinal, but they are natural!
You’d have to see me in my section at Whole Foods: Lincoln Park to get the picture. I would walk around, duster in my apron, along with Earl Mindell’s Herb Bible, Simon & Schuster, New York, 1992, which we sold at the store. To find the uses for an herb like astragalus, I’d look it up in that book or another, show the information to a customer, and lead them to the area where we sold it. It’s on page 47 in Earl Mindell’s book:
“FACTS: Grown in China, Oriental herbalists have used astragalus for centuries for a wide variety of ailments, including diabetes, heart disease, and high blood pressure. Westerners, however, are just beginning to discover its many benefits. Recent studies in leading Chinese medical journals suggest that astragalus may help activate the immune system, thus enhancing the body’s natural ability to fight disease…”
List #4, on white lined paper, uses two hands with two different media: blue pen, in cursive, for “Caulk/ stamps/ whole foods” and black marker for the rest. The marker is printed, to say,
“rice
“ cakes
pancakes
pasta
crackers
chicken/ beans/ rice milk/ almond butter/ veg./ fruit juice/ herbs/ potato.” Judging from what I know about nutrition, which is not that much, I would say that this writer team is trying to move to rice products as opposed to traditional grains, i. e. wheat/ oats for Americans. Also, they want some herbs; whether this means spices for cooking with or medicinal herbs like astragalus is impossible to surmise. But here we see Whole Foods offering dietary flexibility that more conventional stores cannot, or at that time did not (today, our big supermarket does offer some alternative products but I couldn’t compare it to Whole Foods in scope of uniquely healthy food products for sale).
Let me just note here that my partner was angry at me earlier, and threatened me by saying “From now on, we will not shop together!” He knows how dear to me our cooperation in food-procurement is! One day later, we’re back together and I am baking oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips from Whole Foods—sweetened with not sugar but stevia (stevia is a South American herb that is 16 times sweeter than sugar, which may or may not actually be better for our health, the word’s not out), dark chocolate and delicious!
One of the few green shopping lists I have is small—2” x 3”—and seems to have been composed in several stages. The media look like blue pen; pencil; and black pen. There is a graphic, too, an abstract line drawing with a series of squiggly lines. (It looks to me like one writer saw the first items on the list: “Acidophilous/ Cheese/ Celery” Then added “H2O2/ CABBAGE” then drew for a minute and then, “green tea.” I would guess the “H2O2” is supposed to be water, but I don’t know. Anyway, I find it noteworthy because of the “Acidophilous,” which I’m used to as acidophilus. It seems a British spelling of the word, meaning a popular strain of good gut bacteria that we sold in our section. Number 35: so interesting for such a smidgen of paper!
To change the subject a bit, one of the lists is #37, delightful for its handwriting—legible, patiently crafted, but unique. Somebody is gonna have a nice time, with their “camera/ 8 to 10 inch pot/ firewood/ 1/2 lb mozzarella/ 1 lb ricotta/ fresh basil./ pine nuts/ olive oil./ lotto ticket”!
Number 40, a list on a smallish piece of paper—but written in red ink—features a question mark after “organic meat?” and a misspelling of “vitamins:” it says, “vitamines.” The entries are a bit haphazard: differently angled words cross and fail to obey the lines of the paper.; the first letter of “Bread” has been changed to a capital. There are three body care items listed, along with “Disinfectant spray (natural).” These are balanced by “WATER,” the vitamins and four food items. Apparently this shopper likes cleanliness (“sterile cotton ball/ deodorant/ toothpaste”) AND indulgence (“Chocolate” with a capital “C”), and is not a vegetarian but wants to shop for general food categories (“Grains/ Bread/ Chocolate”), as well as to explore something Whole Foods may (and does) have for sale— “organic meat?.” Thus we see that a list tells a story, and may be an anthropological document as well. Vitamins and body care were in my section, called “Nutrition,” and I am happy to see that people take advantage of the chance to nourish their bodies, inside and out, even perhaps with high ideals in mind, such as decreasing their carbon footprints and getting and staying healthier.
List writers prefer black to blue pen by about 100%, and only a few utilize pencil or other colored pens—but several do. Four employed mixed media (i. e., red and black ink, or pencil, blue ink and black ink). One used blue ink to make five lists on an 8 1/2” x 11” piece of paper, which was already printed on—but very lightly (#15); definitely recycled, though. The author used three columns. The first list started under “WHOLE FOODS,” made of thick letters in all caps. The second followed a colored in “jewel,” the name of a big Chicago grocery store; the third said “Stanley’s;” underneath that, one saw two other store names written, with one item each—“Alliance Bakery” (“pain”) and “Andy’s Deli” (“cheese”). I assume “pain” was bread, as in French. All items except the store names were in cursive, and each began with a colored in dot in front of it; the effect of all this was an artsy document that bespoke of its entries as exciting, fun, important and neat: just the kind of shopping experience one would hope for.
To all of my list writers: thanks for your time! I hope you didn’t forget anything on your trip. See my website’s Food section for the small lists: alternatefuturesinstitute.com online.